Mon Cher Mathieu
by hello kitty bandaid
Summary: Mathieu is found in his room with slit wrists and a broken heart. Will his family be able to piece him back together? rated T just to be safe...
1. Chapter 1

"Thanks for the ride, guys!" Alfred called out to a group of big, sweaty teenagers in a rusty red pick-up truck.

"No problem, Al! Hey, nice practice today! Play more like that at the games, and like hell we're gonna win!" shouted the driver, a muscular kid with brown eyes to match his hair.

Alfred grinned and waved as the clunker pulled out of his driveway and rode off, blasting rap as they sped away. Alfred shook his head and sighed happily as he walked inside.

"M'home!" he yelled to no one in particular as he stepped into the threshold. A small response from his father's office was his only reply. He shrugged and walked down the hall to his room. He was about to throw down his book bag when he noticed a figure asleep on the bed adjacent to his. He then realized it was his brother Mathieu, and mentally face-palmed for not remembering. He couldn't help it, the kid was just so easy to forget! As he walked closer to the sleeping boy, though, Alfred noticed that Mathieu had left his glasses on, rather than setting them on his bedside table, which he normally did. _Matt never sleeps with his glasses on_, Alfred thought to himself. He shrugged it off as Mathieu being so tired that he left them on by accident. He reached down to remove them when his fingers brushed Mathieu's cheek. Alfred pulled back. Why was Mathieu so cold? That's when he looked down and saw the red stain on the sheets that could only be blood. Alfred yanked the covers back and stared in horror at Mathieu's maimed arms. Blood oozed from each wrist, and did not appear to be stopping any time soon. "M-matt?" Alfred yelped as he shook his brother, gently at first, then forcefully. "Matt, wake up! Th-this isn't funny!" He took two trembling fingers and placed them on Mathieu's neck. A slight pulse was fluttering, but appeared to be fading fast. "DAD!" Alfred shouted. "DAD! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" Hearing no response, Alfred sighed in frustration. He slipped one of his arms under Mathieu's legs and the other supporting his neck, and lifted him up bridal-style. He raced down the hall and upstairs to his father's office. "DAD!" he banged his fists on the door, threatening to break it off it's hinges.

"Alfred, what the bloody he-?" Arthur flung the door open and stopped short. Confusion, surprise and horror flickered across his face. Alfred had blood smeared all over him, and was clutching a figure close to his chest. It took Arthur a moment to realize that the figure was Mathieu, his second son, and guilt replaced all his other emotions. He reached out and took Mathieu from Alfred's arms. "Go get some towels and call 911 now." His voice had taken an authoritative tone that Alfred hadn't heard before, and he ran downstairs to obey his father's request. Arthur looked down at Mathieu, and he felt a lump begin to form in his throat. How had he let this happen? What had pushed Mathieu to do something like this? Tears began to slip out of his eyes, dropping onto the boy's cheeks. "Oh, Mathieu," Arthur murmured softly. "Please, please be all right," He began to rock Mathieu in his arms, just like he had done when Mathieu was a small boy, when his nightmares were out of control. He would thrash around in his sleep, screaming for his papa. Arthur or Francis would come in and wake him, and the helpless child would cling to either of their shirts and cry. A terrible pain filled his heart, and he let out a choked sob just as Alfred came back up the stairs. "Help me wrap them around his arms," he said firmly, his head ducked down so Alfred couldn't see the tears spilling out of his eyes. Together, they wrapped his wrists tightly, hoping to stop some blood flow, and five minutes later, the paramedics arrived. They loaded Mathieu onto a stretcher and took off, with Arthur and Alfred trailing behind them. Alfred put his head in his hands, and tears stung his eyes. _No, I won't cry!_ He thought angrily. _Heroes don't cry..._

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><p>Arthur paced back and forth, phone in hand, as he tried for the fifth (and possibly the last) time to get Francis on the phone. Just as Arthur was about to hang up, a smooth French voice filled his ears.<p>

"Bonjour?" it said happily. Anger filled Arthur's chest. How could he be HAPPY in a time like this?

"Bonjour yourself, Frog!" he snapped back, forgetting the whole reason he called.

"What is your problem, Arthur?" Francis replied, annoyance visible in his voice.

"Look, there's...well, we're-" He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy to say. "We're in the hospital. It's Mathieu," France was in his car and down the road in a minute.

Arthur hung up his phone and sighed. He then sunk into a chair next to Alfred, who had a bleak expression as he stared straight ahead. "This is all my fault," Alfred mumbled quietly. Arthur turned to him in surprise.

"Why would you think that?" he asked curiously. Alfred sighed.

"I've been a terrible brother! I'm supposed to be the hero, but I didn't even notice him half the time!" He got choked up, and tried to blink back his tears, but failed. "Arthur, I feel s-so terrible!" And at once, as if a floodgate had opened up, tears began pouring out of Alfred's eyes. His whole body shook as he sobbed, and he buried his face in Arthur's shoulder. Arthur stroked Alfred's hair soothingly.

"None of us acknowledged him as much as we should have, but it was his choice. Don't blame yourself," That's how they sat for the next ten minutes, with Alfred crying on Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur trying to calm him. When the doctor emerged from Mathieu's room and into the lobby, both men sat up straighter. "How is he?" Arthur asked eagerly.

"He's lost quite a lot of blood," the doctor stated. "It's a miracle he's survived this long at all," Alfred slumped back down in his seat. "However," the doctor said, getting Alfred's hopes back up. "We think he's going to be okay. You can come see him if you want." Arthur and Alfred jumped up at the same time, thanking the doctor profusely as he leaded them down the hall. "He's probably going to be asleep for awhile longer," the doctor whispered as he opened the door. Both men rushed in, and gasped at the sight before them. It reminded them of some sort of medical show. There was Mathieu, lying under sheets that were just barely whiter than him. About a million different IVs and tubes were sticking out of his arms, and a heart monitor beside his bed was giving off low, monotonous beeps. They pulled up chairs beside Mathieu's bed, and soon Alfred was crying again, as well as Arthur. They had been there a little over half an hour when the door burst open and in ran France. He slowed down as he took in the sight of Mathieu before breaking down completely, and walked to the other side of his bed. He clutched Mathieu's small, cold hand in his own as tears fell down his cheeks.

"Oh, mon petit Mathieu!" he whispered. "Mon pauvre petit Mathieu,"

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><p><strong>AN: aah , that took WAY longer than it should have XDD next chapter will be up in a half hour at most ! thanks for reading !**

**translations: **

**mon petit mathieu=my little mathieu**

**mon pauvre petit mathieu=my poor little mathieu**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: i am sooo sorry i didnt post this sooner ! i was going to , but then i remember that i had this HUGE social studies project which was due , so i had to work on that , and i havent found any other time ! cuz i got piano lessons and homework and skating and HERPADERP :/ but im gonna try and update again real soon ! thanks for all the comments too o3o**

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><p>Mathieu's eyes fluttered open lazily, and he looked around the bright white room. <em>Am I dead? <em>he wondered. A low beeping sound rang in his ears, and he grimaced in annoyance. He stared at his wrists and realized they were bandaged up, with multiple tubes sticking in them. _Wait a second..._He looked to his right to see his papa sleeping in an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair, and Alfred and his other father asleep in chairs to his left. They all appeared to have red, puffy eyes, as if they had been crying. He looked down to see thin white sheets tucked up to his chin. He wasn't...Was he? No, he was...His eyes widened. He was in a hospital. He was in a hospital? No, this couldn't be happening! He had passed out from blood loss long before Alfred was home! He should be dead right now! Dead and gone and out of everyone's way! That's where he wanted to be! He began hyperventilating, causing the heart monitor to beep five times as fast. The three others stirred in their sleep. Arthur was the first to wake up.

"Mathieu? What are you doing? You need to calm down!" He ordered Mathieu to take big, deep breaths, which eventually slowed down his heart rate, but not his mind, which had about a thousand thoughts racing around it at once. At this point, Francis and Alfred had woken up and were rubbing their eyes sleepily. As Mathieu stared at everyone, tears welled up in his eyes.

"Oh, mon cher Mathieu douce," Francis murmured as he stepped closer to the bed and pulled Mathieu into a hug. Mathieu squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears from coming. "Please, don't ever do that again." Mathieu just nodded, his fingers crossed ever so slightly under his sheets.

"You scared us to death, Mattie!" Alfred said, and instantly regretted his choice of words. "But I'm glad you're okay now," Mathieu nodded again, wishing that more than anything that he had not survived. The look of depression on his brother's face felt like a stab in the heart.

Arthur stepped forward awkwardly. "Mathieu, I'm so sorry this happened. We should have noticed there was something wrong," Mathieu stopped listening to his father's words and focused on his eyes. They looked glassy. Was he on the verge of tears? Mathieu had never seen Arthur cry, so that meant he must really have been worried, and not just feeling guilty for forgetting his son. That's when the wall holding back his emotions broke. Whatever willpower and strength he had been using to fight his tears was gone, and they poured down his cheeks. Francis, Arthur, and Alfred all looked at each other with equal faces of guilt. They all knew that this was not the first time Mathieu had cried so hard, and they felt to blame. Mathieu lay back on the pillow and let out heart-wrenching sobs. He cried for making his family feel bad, and for wasting their time. He cried for not succeeding in his attempt at death, and for all the hard times that had pushed him to do it. He cried until he eventually fell asleep, small hiccups and deep uneven breaths accompanying it. Francis, Arthur, and Alfred sat back in the plastic chairs by Mathieu's bedside. A silent agreement seemed to fill the room as they all thought the same thing: they would do their best to make Mathieu's life much better than it was now.

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><p>Mathieu sat in the kitchen, eating small bites of pancakes and maple syrup. Francis sat next to him, Alfred sat across from him, and Arthur was in the kitchen, fixing tea for himself.<p>

"These are awesome, Mattie!" Alfred declared as he shoved another forkful of the maple-soaked pancakes into his mouth.

"They are very good, Mathieu," Francis agreed. "You get your cooking skills from me, of course,"

"I can hear you, Frog!" Arthur shouted from the kitchen, causing Francis to chuckle. Mathieu just blushed. It was all a bit overwhelming, really. Ever since he had been let out of the hospital, his family kept a close eye on him. Not just to acknowledge his existence, but to make sure he wasn't going to do anything like he had done ever again. This meant removing all of the kitchen knives, razors, and scissors, and putting screens on all of the windows. And for the most part, Mathieu's family believed he was going to recover from this experience and was improving. But they were wrong.

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><p>Mathieu walked through the crowded hallway, invisible to everyone. At least, he thought he was...<p>

"Matvey, where have you been?" a mocking voice shouted from the front of a large group of kids. Mathieu ducked his head, quickening his pace. "Where are you going?" the voice said yet again, with choruses of "Yeah, _Mattie_!" echoing it. Mathieu turned to stare back at none other than Ivan. The flow of students in the hallway lessened, leaving Mathieu much more vulnerable. "So, I hear you've been missing for a while, da?" Mathieu nodded and stared down at his shoes. Then, without warning, Ivan yanked Mathieu's arm, and pulled back the sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal the red scars that made their way up his wrist. He stepped aside to show his group of friends the cut marks. Ivan chuckled. "So, you tried to take the easy way out, huh?" Mathieu tried to pull his arm back, but to no avail. Ivan leaned in close to Mathieu's ear. "You are so weak. You deserve to die," He pulled his head back, laughed, and walked away with his posse, leaving Mathieu alone in the now deserted hallway. Mathieu blinked, and turned around, going back the way he came, distancing himself from Ivan even more. And all the while he kept his composure. He walked up the stairs and into the boy's bathroom, a blank expression still present on his face. He walked to the last stall, locked the door, and sat on the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest, and then, only then, did he cry.

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><p><strong>AN: aaaah im so sorry ! this chapter is so darned short ;3; im sorry , ive been putting this off for FOREVER ! but insomnia hit , and i have nothing better to do ;P please dont hate me for making this so late , i promise the last chapter will be up soon ! *pinky swears* thanks for reading (^-^)**


	3. Chapter 3

Mathieu flung the front door open. He was instantly greeted by Francis.

"Bonjour, Mathieu!" Francis exclaimed as he enveloped his son in a hug.

"Bonjour, papa," Mathieu mumbled. Francis let go of him and held him by the shoulders at arm's length, looking him right in the eyes.

"Is something wrong, mon cher?" Francis asked, worry clear in his voice.

Mathieu forced a fake smile onto his face. "No, papa, I'm fine. I just have a lot of homework,"

Francis smiled. "Well, you should get started on that. I have to run a few errands, but Arthur is in his office upstairs," There was a slight threat to this statement. It was as if he was saying "Arthur is upstairs, so don't try anything stupid or life-threatening."

Mathieu nodded. "Of course, papa," He walked down the hall to his room, dropped his book bag on the floor, and waited for the unmistakable sound of a door shutting, signaling that Francis had left. He slipped off his shoes, not wanting to make any noise that would make his father upstairs suspicious. He could recall when he was a young boy, on Christmas morning, him and Alfred would run down the hall to look under the Christmas tree for presents, and the floor would always creak or groan. It was practically an alarm system. He stepped down the hall carefully, calculating his every move before even lifting his foot. Once he stepped into the kitchen, he was home-free. He knew what he was looking for, he just wasn't sure if they had been removed from the house yet. Mathieu stood on his tiptoes and reached for a cabinet door. It swung open, revealing just what he was seeking: painkillers. He took the whole bottle and slipped back to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, rolling the bottle around in his shaky hands. _It's for the best_, he thought to himself. _Soon you'll be out of everyone's way. You're just taking up space, and you're bothering everyone. Just leave._ He gulped, and opened the bottle. _Should I be doing this? _He put the lid back on. _Yes, no one wants you. _He opened the bottle back up. _Alfred wants you, Arthur wants you, Francis wants you. _He put the lid back on once more. He felt as though there was an angel and a devil sitting on his shoulders, telling him what to do. _They didn't even notice you before this. __They don't really care. _Mathieu set the bottle on his bedside table, and grabbed a pen and a half-used pad of paper. He wrote out a quick yet meaningful note, and set it on his desk. _Just leave, _the voice commanded. Mathieu grabbed the bottle and untwisted the cap. _Just leave. Just leave. _The words echoed in his head, rang in his ears. He poured a handful of pills into his palm, and swallowed them all in one big gulp. _Just leave. _He laid back on his bed, hands crossed over his chest. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. _A single tear rolled down his cheek as his eyes fluttered closed, and the world went black.

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><p>"Mathieu?" Arthur called from upstairs. He had been working for three hours and had completely lost track of time. "Mat?" No response. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Why wasn't Mathieu responding? Was he in trouble? Had he tried to harm himself again? Arthur and Francis had made sure to hide or lock away all things that were sharp or capable of cutting. Suddenly, work was the last thing on Arthur's mind. He raced down the stairs, taking two at a time. He knocked on Mathieu's bedroom door, and when he did not get a response, simply barged in. When he first looked at Mathieu, he relaxed a little.<em> He's just sleeping, <em>Arthur thought. But as he stepped closer, he instantly realized he was wrong. Mathieu looked so pale, and when he reached out to feel his cheek, it was as cold as ice.

"Mathieu?" Arthur whispered in disbelief. He pressed two fingers to Mathieu's neck, looking desperately for a pulse. He felt nothing. "Mathieu! No, please!" He set his head on Mathieu's chest, listening for a heart beat, even one so faint you can barely hear it. He heard nothing. "No no no! MATHIEU!" He shouted as he let out a shaky sob. This could not be happening. "Please, don't leave me Mathieu!" His shoulders shook as he sobbed. "No, my son! My little boy!" He held his head in his hands and screamed. Hot tears ran down his face, soaking the front of his shirt. He looked at Mathieu. He had such a peaceful expression, as though he finally got what he wanted. He was finally free.

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><p>Arthur stepped into Mathieu's room. It had been a week since he had found him. Arthur came in every day to preserve the memory of his son. He stepped over to Mathieu's bed when a piece of tan-yellow paper caught his eye. He picked up, and began reading.<p>

_To whom it may concern,_

_If you are reading this, then odds are I am dead. I am a waste of people's time. I just want to be out of everyone's way, so I am not a bother. I want you to know that this was my decision, and that it is not your fault. Please, do not be angry with me, and know that I love you._

_-Mathieu_

Tears clouded Arthur's vision. He put his head in his hands and wept. "Oh, Mathieu," he murmured as tears dripped off his cheeks. "You will never be forgotten again. I promise." And somewhere, far above the earth, Mathieu smiled.

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><p><strong>AN: PLEASE READ ! ok , i want to tell everyone something right now : SUICIDE IS NOT THE ANSWER ! if you are suicidal , please talk to someone . heck , you can even talk to me if you want to ! i honestly know what you're going through ! but please do not attempt suicide , it is not the answer to your problems . thank you for reading ! 3**


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